Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I’m a man who strives for success and until recently, I always succeeded.
I realize it’s not actually that way, but because of my mixed-up feelings about Hartford, it feels like it. When I talked to Harrison and he told me to push my feelings down like I always have, I thought it was the best advice. It was advice I could follow, considering I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. But right now, I’m sitting here wishing Hartford was in my bed with no stupid rules cockblocking me.
I finish my slice of pizza and snag a beer from the fridge. The Puppy Politics Pilsner, or Triple P for short, is Hartford’s favorite.
“Christ,” I whisper before taking a long pull. It’s getting to the point where I can’t even drink a beer without thinking of her.
There’s a knock on my door and I stare at it blankly. No one comes here. I don’t entertain because my apartment is just a place where I lay my head. It’s nothing fancy, nothing great. It’s not a big house like Callum’s. It’s not an expensive house like Shepherd’s. One day, but right now, I’m content just having a place of my own.
I’ve got all the essential things. A worn La-Z-Boy beckons in one corner. Across the room, a modest TV stands sentinel, offering a brief escape from reality. Even a compact galley kitchen to cook meals just for myself.
Yet, despite these essentials, there's a palpable absence—a void where a couch should be. Without it, my apartment remains just that—a space.
Another knock and I trudge to the door.
I pull the door open, revealing Hartford standing before me, tears glistening in her captivating eyes. Her fingers clutch the handle of a suitcase tightly, and my mind races with possibilities.
“Hartford, are you okay?”
“Can I stay with you?”
I lead her inside. “What kind of question is that? Of course you can. What happened?”
She rents her house from her aunt, maybe she came back and told Hartford to leave? Maybe she lost her job because I suck at helping her with BDSM and she can’t afford the house anymore?
“There was a fire.”
“A fire? Are you okay? Did you get burned?” I run my hands and eyes all over her.
She swats my hands away. “I’m fine. I didn’t get burned.”
“What happened?”
She makes the short walk to the living room and plops down in my favorite black leather La-Z-Boy chair, pulling her legs under herself. Her eyes lift to me and I see the tears swimming in them. It breaks my heart, and I kneel beside her, resting my hand on her knee.
“Talk to me, Hart.”
“It all happened so quickly. Electrical fire. Due to a hot wax machine.”
“Hot wax?” I lift a brow. “Were you going to do some scenes without me?” I know it’s not the time to joke around, but…
She shakes her head, her auburn hair falling into her eyes. I want to brush her hair back, but I keep my hands still. “No, I was going to wax my legs, and other things.”
Holy fuck. I stand from my position, pacing at the thought of Hartford and her…um…waxing. Dirty reel after dirty reel flies through my mind at warped speed of Hartford’s silky legs. My hands all over them. Inching up. Up.
Fuck.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I say, pulling myself together
She sighs, shrugging her shoulders. “The firemen said there’s a lot of damage and it could take a few weeks to fix. I called my aunt, and she’s getting in touch with a contractor who will come over and give me a quote on everything.” She chokes back a sob and covers her face with her hands. “It’s going to cost me all my savings.”
“First, stop worrying about money. The most important thing is that you didn’t get hurt. Second, you have homeowner’s insurance, that will take care of most of the bill. And you’re a renter. Your aunt will get it squared away. And if you need help, I’m right here. I’ve got plenty of money saved that I won’t miss.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and cries. Her tears wet my skin and I close my eyes, trying to keep my own emotions in check.
“I’ve got you. You can stay here as long as you need,” I whisper, stroking her hair.
“I don’t want to put you out, but my parents have that renovation going, and they’re still in Florida while that happens. I didn’t know where else to go.”
I pull away from her and place my hands on either side of her tear-stained cheeks. “This is where you come, Hartford. When you need something, when you’re in trouble, you come to me, always. Understand me? You could never put me out.”
She nods. “Thank you, Paxton.”
We sit for a while and I put on a mindless TV show to help distract her brain. I offered her food, but she said her stomach was in knots. I convinced her to drink a bottled water, and that’s sufficient for now.